


Desperate for Attention

by SlimeQueen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Panties, Thighfucking, inappropriate usage of paintbrushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4782875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, maybe the boyshorts were just a bit overboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate for Attention

**Author's Note:**

> title from Panic! at the Disco's "The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage" because i'm still an emo kid at heart lmao  
> Please do not steal or post my work on any other website without my permission. Thank you!

In retrospect, maybe the boyshorts were just a bit overboard.

Junmyeon eyes the women’s underwear, hands on his hips, tongue stuck between his lips in thought. The offending item lays embarrassingly pink against the navy bedspread, flowery lace across pearly satin.

Yifan’s low humming sounds through the walls, and Junmyeon frowns, making up his mind. It’s _Saturday_ , for god’s sake, and Yifan should be paying attention to him, not painting. He pulls off his shorts, balling them up and throwing them in the hamper before grabbing the boyshorts.

Junmyeon is a modest person. Usually his attire consists of Yifan’s big hoodies and pajama pants, then slacks and dress shirts when he goes to work.

Yet, on a whim, when he’d seen the lingerie store at the mall, it was almost as if there had been a voice in his head screaming _buy something buy something buy something_!

Twenty five minutes and six pairs of women’s underwear later, Junmyeon had left with the pearl colored underwear in a discrete black bag.

Now, sliding the formidable piece of fabric up his legs, he feels a knot of trepidation forming in the pit of his stomach. The full length mirror in the corner of their minimalistic bedroom shows him in all his satin clad glory, lace framing thick thighs and a soft stomach.

Junmyeon makes a face at himself in the mirror, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He pinches his own cheeks and watches them turn pink.

Maybe just the underwear is too much?

With a sigh, he trudges over to the closet, finding Yifan’s clothing instead of his own. He grabs the softest flannel he can find, breathing in the scent of Yifan’s cologne that lingers to the plaid fabric before sliding it on. Doing up the buttons one by one, he leaves the top two undone to reveal a greater part of his collarbone.

Deeming himself fit for seduction, Junmyeon slinks down the hall to Yifan’s study. The door suddenly looks intimidating, but he finds comfort in the familiar hum of Yifan’s voice behind it.

The door opens smoothly without making a sound, revealing the long line of Yifan’s back, hunched over on his stool. The canvass is half full of hazy color, a collage of pastels.

“Yifan?” he pitches his voice just a little higher than usual, filled with innocent curiosity.

Yifan doesn’t turn around. “Hm?” he continues sweeping lavender over the canvass. “Do you need something?”

This is it. Junmyeon takes a deep breath and pads over, pressing his body against Yifan’s back. “You, maybe.” He murmurs into Yifan’s black band shirt.

Yifan freezes, and then peels Junmyeon’s arms off him, turning in his chair to face the smaller.

“I see you’ve raided my side of the closet.” Yifan looks unimpressed so Junmyeon turns the seduction up a notch.

“Don’t you want to see what’s under the shirt?” He asks, voice just breathy enough to be considered sexy. Yifan rolls his eyes, but Junmyeon doesn’t miss the way his gaze trails downward for a split second.

“Take your shirt off.” Yifan says, and Junmyeon scrambles to do so immediately, fingers suddenly clumsy as he fumbles with the buttons on the front of the too-big flannel. After a few seconds of watching him struggle, Yifan sighs and reaches forward to help. “Sexy isn’t a color you pull off well, Junmyeonie.”

Junmyeon flushes and continues trying to get the stupid buttons open.

Junmyeon’s hands get pushed away and Yifan’s long fingers work open the buttons smoothly. Junmyeon feels too eager, like he's sixteen again and inexperienced, as Yifan ducks down and presses a soft kiss to the curve of his cheek. Yifan’s large flannel hangs open and off his shoulders, framing his midsection in plaid. The scent of acrylic paint underlies Yifan’s sharp cologne as he slides closer, big hands coming to rest on Junmyeon’s hips.

“What,” Yifan begins a little frustratedly as he pulls them closer together, “Am I going to do with you? Not letting me work, not even letting me think.” His thumbs stroke little circles into Junmyeon’s soft curves and he feels his knees go a little weak. “Wearing those shorts? My flannel? Are you trying to tempt me? Where did you even _get_ those?”

‘ _Yes!’_ Junmyeon thinks, but Yifan chooses that second to slide his rough palms up the younger’s sides, and all coherency leaves him. He cranes his neck, lips parting, silently asking for a kiss, but Yifan frowns and doesn’t give in.

“You’re going to get what’s coming to you.” Yifan mutters, tugging the sleeves of the flannel until it falls and pools in a heap on the floor. “Go wait on the bed.” Junmyeon reaches to gather the shirt into his arms, feeling bare in the little boyshorts as he hurries to return to the bedroom. The last thing he sees is Yifan reaching for his paint retardant, the lines of his back tense under his thin shirt.

He supposed he should feel a little scared, but instead, all that comes to him is anticipation, heart thrumming excitedly at the thought of Yifan’s undivided attention. He throws the flannel into the corner of the room and leaps onto the bed, pale legs coming to cross under him.

The wait is killing him, suspense welling up inside his chest, making it hard for him to breath. Before he can help it, a hand slips to the front of his little boyshorts, fingers rubbing over his already hardening cock. The pink material stains dark with precome within seconds, and Junmyeon finds his eyes falling shut, lower lip tucked between his teeth.

“Well,” Yifan’s deep voice startles his eyes wide open, mouth falling open in surprise. “First you distract me, now you start without me.” He doesn’t sound so angry, full lips pulling up in the ghost of a smirk. Junmyeon watches him cross the room within seconds on long legs, shedding his shirt as he moves.

Yifan’s eyes go heavy lidded as he tilts his head down, stopping at the foot of the bed. Junmyeon crawls over and gets up onto his knees, mouth falling just short of Yifan’s when he tries to stretch up for a kiss.

He grabs at Yifan for leverage to get up, but he’s smacked away lightly. “Lie on your back and _don’t move_.” Yifan demands, and part of Junmyeon wants to argue, but a greater part wants to know what’s going to happen. He crawls back up the bed and flops down, hands resting neatly on his stomach.

Yifan disappears into the bathroom for a couple seconds, leaving Junmyeon staring curiously after him. As promised, he doesn’t move an inch.

When Yifan returns, he has some things in his hands, but before Junmyeon can see what they are, they’re dropped beside the bed and unfortunately out of his line of vision. “K-“

Before he can start talking, Yifan reaches down and grabs both his wrists easily with a big hand, then pins them above Junmyeon’s head. He tries to squirm, but Yifan is way stronger than he is and doesn’t budge one bit. The elder man parts Junmyeon’s thighs with his other hand, settling between the open legs.

Yifan leans forward over him, mouth pressing hot against Junmyeon’s ear as he whispers, “Now then, what _am_ I going to do with you?” One of his thighs comes to press directly against the base of Junmyeon’s cock over the thin underwear and Junmyeon wriggles a little.

“Keep your arms over your head.” he says, reaching over the edge of the bed again. Junmyeon sucks his lower lip into his mouth to keep from whining and complaining, air leaving his lungs in one long exhale as he waits impatiently for Yifan to get whatever he’s getting.

“You’re a spoiled brat.” Yifan declares, sitting up with something now in his hand. Between his long fingers is a paintbrush, and it must be new because Junmyeon’s never seen it and it looks unused. “You’re not going to move.”

He waits until he gets a weak, “O-okay,” from Junmyeon before he continues.

“You are not to touch yourself or me. You’re going to lay here and learn something about _patience_ , and the importance of not acting like a _spoiled child_.” Yifan’s voice gets rougher as he speaks, and only when Yifan presses a hand to his waist and stills him does he realize he’s been trying to hump Yifan’s thigh the whole time.

It feels like there’s too much saliva in his mouth and his insides do something twisty and his skin feels too hot as Yifan pulls away enough to lean over him, but to not be touching him at all.

Junmyeon’s eyes squeeze shut at the first touch of the paintbrush, soft bristles barely grazing his navel. Yifan runs it up the indent of the line going up his abdomen to his ribcage, and Junmyeon feels his muscles inherently clench.

Each of his ribs are slowly traced, the brush held painfully steady with Yifan’s skilled artist’s hands, and Junmyeon thinks he could really die from waiting.

Yifan hums in a way that makes Junmyeon feel wary and slides the brush up a little, circling the soft bristles around Junmyeon’s nipple and oh, Junmyeon really thinks he could die. It’s borderline ticklish as he tries not to squirm under Yifan’s watchful eyes, but his back arches up, an embarrassingly breathy moan slipping from his mouth.

Yifan moves the brush to stroke over the center of his sternum and leans down without a warning, pressing plush lips to the hardened bud. Junmyeon releases all the air in his lungs in a big shuddery gasp, hands coming up a fraction from the bed above his head before he remembers and pushes them down hastily.

The warmth of Yifan’s tongue flat against his nipple has his teeth sinking into his bottom lip to keep from making noise, cock twitching in his underwear.

Pulling away slowly, Yifan returns to tracing Junmyeon’s features, brushing over his adams apple to his chin. Junmyeon looks up and meets his eyes, but finds them too intense and has to look away, flush covering his face.

When the brush reaches his mouth, Junmyeon’s tongue peeks between the pink folds automatically before he closes his mouth with an embarrassed whine. Yifan pays him no mind, too preoccupied by his brushwork, following the line of Junmyeon’s cupid’s bow to the swell of his bottom lip.

All of Junmyeon’s senses feel like they’re on hyper drive, each stroke of the brush making him jerk and attempt to rock his hips up into Yifan, but he’s too far away.

Yifan winds him up like piano wire, stretched tight until Junmyeon’s head spins with how much he _needs_ , fingers trembling and soft thighs quaking. Still, Yifan doesn’t touch him, paintbrush running over the bridge of his nose, causing him to wrinkle it.

Then it goes up to his eyes, tracing the curves when they flutter closed, and it feels kind of like when Junmyeon sweeps on his eyeliner.

“Such a pretty face,” Yifan sighs softly, breath warm against Junmyeon’s temple as he leans in closer. Junmyeon tips his head up, mouth parted for a kiss. To his surprise, this time Yifan gives it to him, a chaste press of their lips before he pulls away to sit up between Junmyeon’s legs.

Junmyeon’s eyes widen and he squirms when he realizes just what Yifan has planned, but he forces his body to still as the tip of the brush smooths over his hipbone, down to the top of his boyshorts. “Don’t!” he cries out softly, but Yifan quirks an eyebrow.

“Don’t what?” he teases, the bristles flicking over the wet splotch in the front of the underwear. Junmyeon’s hands curl into fists above his head, nails digging crescents into soft palms. His hips roll before he can help it, a ragged noise slipping from his mouth. “I can’t paint the canvass, so I might as well paint you.” Yifan traces down the outline of Junmyeon’s cock, brushing up and down.

Junmyeon’s breathing grows shaky within seconds as he wriggles around, teeth sunk into his lip to suppress the sounds clawing up his throat. Everything is too sensitive, his cock twitching inside his boyshorts as Yifan sighs and sweeps the brush up higher to the head of his erection. Junmyeon feels it strain against the women’s underwear, pushing it out explicitly in the front, but he can’t find it in him to care when Yifan is this close but _not touching him_.

Finally, Yifan flips the brush over and runs the blunt wooden end down the length of his cock, and his mind completely blanks, a strangled noise escaping his mouth as he tries to rock up against Yifan again.

“Don’t come until I say you can.” Yifan hums softly, the curved wood pressing into the sensitive skin of Junmyeon’s frenulum before making its way higher. Junmyeon’s arms shake but he forces himself to nod and keep them down on the bed.

“W-I want,” Junmyeon stumbles over the words frustratedly as they get tangled on his tongue. “Please just touch me, please?”

Yifan laughs softly, eyes sweeping over Junmyeon’s flushed body, beads of sweat clinging to his hairline, trembling lips, shaking hands pinned dutifully above his head. “You’re going to remember this the next time you disturb my work, yes?”

Before he can bite back the words, Junmyeon blurts, “Yes, yes I won’t bother you, I’m sorry, just- just please,” His hips arch up, the front of the boyshorts bulging obscenely as he tries to press into Yifan’s thigh.

Yifan’s hand returns to pin his wrists more firmly against the sheets, draping his long body over Junmyeon’s until the younger is nearly covered by his torso. One of his thighs slot neatly between Junmyeon’s legs as he uses his free hand to tilt the smaller’s head up and press their lips together.

The brush clatters to the floor somewhere beside them, but neither look up.

Junmyeon’s too deliciously sensitive after being stroked down with the brush, crying out softly when Yifan thumbs at his nipples, frotting rhythmically against Yifan’s thigh.

Yifan can feel his own erection pressing insistently against the front of his sweatpants so he shifts slightly, pushing his hips out just enough that Junmyeon can feel it against his hip. It makes his hips jerk helplessly, to feel how turned on Yifan is.

“Yifan, K-Yifan, it’s, it’s too much, I’m going to-“ Junmyeon cuts off with a moan, cock twitching against Yifan’s thigh.

“Don’t come.” Yifan commands, and Junmyeon forces the feeling in his stomach to settle, but his hips won’t stop moving, seeking friction as Yifan’s mouth presses flush to his jaw, then up towards his ear. “Sometimes you have to wait to get what you want.”

Junmyeon shakes his head, biting his cheek hard to keep from coming right then. His eyes burn with unshed tears as he sobs, “I can’t, I’m about t-“

“You can and you will.” Yifan interrupts, index finger circling Junmyeon’s swollen nipple idly, teasing the hard bud against the pad of his finger.

Junmyeon makes himself calm down, breathing hard through his nose. His fingers shake as Yifan squeezes his wrist. One of Yifan’s fingers trail down his chest to the dip of his navel, then lower to stroke at the waistband of the boyshorts. Precome seeps through the front, turning the fabric dark.

“Are my baby’s panties wet?” Yifan coos, nimble fingers brushing over the waistband. Junmyeon makes a noise just short of a sob and tries to press up into his hand, only to be pushes down onto the mattress. “Don’t move.” Yifan reminds him, fingers splaying across the soft plane of his lower belly. Fire curls under Junmyeon’s skin wherever the elder touches him, and he thinks for a second he’s going to pass out before Yifan yanks him back to reality with a soft tug on his hair with his free hand.

“Do you want it?” Yifan asks, palm slipping teasingly over the outline of his cock, “Tell me.”

Junmyeon arches up into him, a chorus of, “Yes, yes please I want it, yes!” spilling from his mouth. Yifan glances at him through his eyelashes and continues rubbing him through the underwear, fingertips dancing across clothed flesh.

“Too fucking tempting,” he mumbles, pressing his lips against the underside of Junmyeon’s jaw. With a sigh, Yifan says, “Come for me, then.”

The reaction is instantaneous, Junmyeon’s body going rigid as his mind goes blank, pleasure streaming through his body. His cock twitches against Yifan warm palm and he stains the front of the boyshorts as he comes. A hoarse cry escapes his throat but Yifan slots their mouths together, swallowing the noise.

Junmyeon falls lax against the bedspread, hands coming down to rest on his chest. There’s a pleasant dull burn in his upper arms from being held above him but he relishes the ache.

“Jesus fuck,” Yifan groans roughly as he pulls down the boyshorts and gets a look at the mess on the front. “I can’t believe you actually came in your pants.” Junmyeon flushes deeply but Yifan shakes his head and reassures, “It’s incredibly hot, but I can’t keep up with your ability.”

Without another word, Yifan flings the ruined boyshorts over his shoulder and directs his attention back to Junmyeon’s limp cock. He frowns and tilts his head, examining the plush skin of Junmyeon’s thighs before his eyes light up.

“Squeeze your legs together. Tighter, yeah, like that.” Yifan grabs his ankles and presses them into his chest so Junmyeon is nearly bent in half, then touches the baby-soft skin on the inside of his thighs with careful fingers. He bends Junmyeon over even more and spreads his thighs for a second to press his lips, openmouthed against the snowy skin. His tongue runs up the curve of Junmyeon’s thigh, and when he nips lightly, he feels the way Junmyeon gasps from the tremor running through the smaller’s body.

Once the insides of Junmyeon’s thighs are both thoroughly slick with saliva, Yifan pulls away and presses his legs together again, sliding another finger experimentally between the tight flesh.

Satisfied this time, Yifan leans over and meets Junmyeon’s eyes. “Ready?” he asks, a hand pressed to the back of the younger’s knee, keeping him in place. Junmyeon nods, flushing from his cheeks to his clavicle. His hair sticks with sweat to his forehead, little cherry mouth open and panting as he tries to regain his breath.

Yifan slides the sweatpants down his legs, letting his cock free as he lines himself up with Junmyeon. “I would make you wait more,” he says, “but you look sort of irresistible.”

Junmyeon’s mouth curves into a half-smile and he makes grabby hands until Yifan leans down over his legs to press a kiss to his lips. His tongue slides wetly against Junmyeon’s, pressing messily into the smaller’s mouth before retreating.

Without another thought, Yifan presses forward, sliding in between Junmyeon’s soft thighs. “Oh,” the younger cries softly, “It’s hot. It’s really hot.”

Yifan feels his thighs tremble around his cock, and he snaps his hips forward experimentally a couple times. The resulting friction is too good, the warmth of Junmyeon’s thighs pressing perfectly against him.

He begins fucking Junmyeon’s thighs in earnest, pressing his lips to the skin of Junmyeon’s smooth calves. Junmyeon holds his thighs closed as tightly as he can, watching the blunt end of Yifan’s erection push forward with every thrust. He reaches a hand between his legs and strokes a slim finger over the head, catching slightly over the slit at the top.

Yifan lets out a shuddery breath and speeds up, his pelvis slapping Junmyeon’s thighs and making obscene noises. Finally, hips stuttering, he comes with a gasp, spilling onto Junmyeon’s soft stomach.

The sudden heat has Junmyeon arching off the bed with a whine, but Yifan sinks down and presses a kiss to his lips so he decides to leave it.

Abruptly, Yifan is gone, and then back in another second with a couple tissues that he uses to sloppily wipe off Junmyeon’s belly. He balls them up and tosses them neatly at the trash bin in the corner of the room. Junmyeon doesn’t even have to look up to know that they make it in.

“Next time you can just ask for attention.” Yifan says conversationally as he snakes his spidery limbs around Junmyeon’s body and pulls him close.

Junmyeon smiles softly. “What’s the fun in that?”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://eatjinsass.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/whinytaeyong) come hmu


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